Chapter 11 #2
I’ve never heard her speak this way before. She was always so gentle and caring, but knowing what I must’ve looked like and how many injuries I had, I can’t say I blame her for being so angry.
“But after I prayed and prayed, I knew there was another Mama nearby beggin’ for her child’s life too, and I just couldn’t do that to another parent.
We were both sufferin’ and beggin’ for a miracle, and I knew prayin’ for his death wouldn’t affect your ability to survive.
So I asked God to save both of you because your families need y’all no matter what. ”
By this point, I’m full-on snot-crying and shaking.
She holds me tighter, her tears mixing with mine. “Your daddy is strong and he’s gonna get through this. It’s where you got it from. All your strength and resilience.”
“You’re strong too, Mama. Look how much you’ve been through. You’re the strongest person I know.”
And she is.
Taking care of Daddy and me, having no time to take care of herself, and still working in between so we could keep a roof over our heads. She never gets a day off. Even years later, she’s always taking care of us at home or her patients at the hospital.
“Mrs. Fanning?”
Our heads pop up and a nurse and doctor stand in front of us.
We both stand. “Yeah? Is he okay?”
“He has a concussion and a head wound, but there’s no cerebral edema, so that’s positive. He didn’t break any ribs or any other bones, which is impressive considering how fast he went down,” the doctor explains.
My palm clenches my chest at the relief I feel.
“Oh, thank goodness,” my mom says, squeezing my hand. “Can we see him?”
“We have him on some meds to keep him comfortable and he’ll stay overnight for observation, but if all goes well, y’all can take him home tomorrow afternoon.”
Mom nods at the doctor. “Thank you. I appreciate you takin’ good care of him.”
“Of course. As soon as he’s transported to a patient room, you can go up there.”
“Might take an hour or so to get the paperwork through and find a room, but I’ll page you or find you in the waitin’ room,” the nurse adds. By the looks of it, they know each other.
“Thanks, Paige. We’ll sit out there and wait for my other daughter, too.”
I can’t help the tears of relief that fall down my cheeks. I hate that he’s alone right now, but hopefully pain free and comfortable for once.
“C’mon, sweetie. We should call Delilah and give her the news.”
She texted earlier and said it’d be a couple more hours before she could leave since there wasn’t another manager available to cover her shift.
Wiping my face, we walk out the ER doors, and I’m startled when I hear Noah calling my name. But then I see her parents and all of her siblings, except Wilder.
Noah rushes toward me and Waylon gets to his feet, which is weird because he was just at the café a couple hours ago. So whatever they’re doing here had to have just happened.
“What’s wrong?” Noah asks.
Her gaze moves over my face in concern and then down to my bandaged hand.
“It’s my dad,” I tell her. “He fell.”
“Oh my goodness, is he okay?”
“He has a concussion and is banged up a bit, but overall, he’ll be okay. They’re keepin’ him overnight, so we’re just waitin’ for ’em to move him to a room.”
“That’s a relief. I’m glad it ain’t too bad.”
“Wait, what’re y’all doin’ here?” I ask.
“Waylon found Wilder unconscious in the barn. We’re still waitin’ on answers.” Her voice is strained like she’s trying to hold back tears.
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
She smiles weakly. “Thanks.”
“Harlow, I’m gonna call Delilah outside. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, Mama. I’ll wait here.”
“Come sit by us.” Noah leads me over to the rest of the family, and it feels awkward with Wilder’s condition up in the air.
“What happened to your dad?” Waylon asks, taking me by surprise. I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve heard his voice in the past four years.
I explain everything, from the bathroom door being blocked to why my hand is bandaged and how he fell and smacked his head on the countertop.
“Thank goodness he’s okay,” Waylon says.
“Yeah, I’m lucky I got home when I did. If my date hadn’t stood me up, who knows if it would’ve made things worse finding him later.”
Waylon flinches slightly, and I don’t know if it’s because of the word date or that I got stood up. But either way, he reveals a kind and sympathetic expression.
“You found Wilder in the barn unconscious?” I prompt. “Did he wake up at all?”
“No, I carried him into my truck and sped to the hospital. I usually stay for lunch, but today I didn’t, and now I feel guilty as hell. If I’d been there, I woulda found him sooner.” He shrugs, and I can tell he’s fighting with his emotions.
“You can’t think about the what-ifs. It’ll choke you to death, trust me.”
The guilt I feel for trying to go up against a guy twice my size instead of letting him steal our belongings weighs heavy in my chest because of what it put my parents and sister through.
The constant worrying, staying with me in the hospital for weeks at a time, and driving me to physical therapy for a year.
That type of guilt doesn’t go away after recovery.
“I know, but I can’t help it,” he admits.
I’ve heard about Wilder’s past, all secondhand from Delilah, but I have a feeling it’s much deeper than what I’ve been told.
“Hollis?” The same doctor who spoke to my mom and me enters the waiting room and calls out for the family.
Garrett and Dena stand, as do the rest of the family, but I continue sitting to respect their privacy.
Realizing I should respond to Mystery Guy’s text now that I’m not so heated about him blowing me off, I grab my phone and click on his message.
Harlow
Sorry for not replying right away. I ended up having a family emergency and had to call an ambulance for my dad. He’s gonna be okay, thankfully. Hope your work thing got handled. If you want to reschedule, it might be a while before I can, but I’d still like to meet up whenever you’re free.
I’m probably being too nice and forgiving, but after what happened with my dad, I know I’d miss talking to him after spending the past month getting to know each other.
As the doctor speaks to the family, Waylon grabs his phone from his back pocket, looks at it, and then glances at me over his shoulder before putting it back.
“Is everything okay?” Mom grabs my attention with her whispered words, and I turn toward her, keeping my voice down.
“I dunno. He just started talkin’ to ’em.”
“Delilah checked on the dogs and now she’s on her way.”
“Okay, good.”
“She’s very upset.”
“I know,” I say, frowning.
Her texts were frantic with tons of questions I didn’t have answers to.
After Dad’s accident, she took on a lot of the responsibility as the oldest child. It was months before Dad got a power chair, so his only form of mobility was his walker or wheelchair. He was weak and spent months in agony, so it was hard for him to hop.
Everything got worse after my incident because Mom was torn between being at home for Dad—who was still recovering from multiple surgeries—and being at the hospital for me—who broke multiple bones. Delilah took on a lot of the burden, making sure someone was always with Dad or me.
When Mom told her it was okay for her to finally move out two years ago, she felt guilty for leaving us. But she didn’t get to live a normal life for so long or focus on her own needs, so our parents nearly pushed her out. It was time she took care of herself.
Trick-riding was all she had to look forward to, and honestly, I think it saved her.
When a text message pops up, I smile at seeing his contact name.
But then it quickly fades.
Mystery Guy
I’m not sure rescheduling is a good idea. I’m sorry.